


What To Expect (When Your Mate Is Expecting)

by maydei



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Domestic Bliss, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Will Graham, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 11:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14693490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydei/pseuds/maydei
Summary: It’s simple biology, a tale as old as life itself. Alpha and Omega bite, bond, mate, and procreate. However, for the unsuspecting Alpha, the changes your mate may go through in the midst of pregnancy can be alarming. Hormonal fluctuations can cause changes in sleep patterns, eating habits, sexual desire, lapses in memory, and even shifts in personality.You may expect these changes. You may even read about them before they occur. Experiencing them firsthand is another matter entirely.





	What To Expect (When Your Mate Is Expecting)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HigherMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/gifts).



> Woohoo!! Finished in time for Omegaverse Day!! I enable and was enabled by [Rowan](http://highermagic.tumblr.com) to contribute. Go us!

 

_It’s simple biology, a tale as old as life itself. Alpha and Omega bite, bond, mate, and procreate. However, for the unsuspecting Alpha, the changes your mate may go through in the midst of pregnancy can be alarming. Hormonal fluctuations can cause changes in sleep patterns, eating habits, sexual desire, lapses in memory, and even shifts in personality._

_You may expect these changes. You may even read about them before they occur. Experiencing them firsthand is another matter entirely._

 

_Dietary changes are usually the first and most common symptom._

* * *

 

Dinner has always been a simple affair between them. Hannibal cooks. Sometimes Will helps. They both share equally in washing and drying. Food is eaten when it’s prepared, and not a moment before.

Prior to Will’s pregnancy, their system was well established. Will’s appetite was moderate but patient; his palette, well-rounded.

Hannibal turns around for the second time that night to find the chilis missing from his cutting board, julienned strips of hot peppers that were neither easy to come by, nor in any way mild. Hannibal sighs, and his eyes roll to his mate, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. Will holds steady eye contact with Hannibal as he crushes a strip between his teeth, unapologetic.

“Will,” Hannibal says patiently, “I’ll never finish cooking if you keep eating my ingredients.”

“Don’t mind me.” Will slouches, and the collar of his tee shirt exposes the silvery bite mark at the curve of his neck and shoulder. Just the sight of it soothes Hannibal’s mind. The subsequent glance downward revealing the soft swell of Will’s stomach fills him with pride.

Will is a challenge of a mate, what with their shared history and his headstrong nature. Stubborn to a fault. Hannibal knows this is an argument he won’t win, and in truth, doesn’t even mean to begin.

His mistake.

“Difficult not to mind when you eat our dinner before it’s finished,” he replies. He’s amused as he says it, and means little by it.

Will’s eyes flash and his lip curls in a growl, exposing short omegan fangs that perfectly align to a matching bite on Hannibal’s skin. It twinges as his mate glowers at him, a physical expression of his displeasure. “If you’d prefer I _not_ feed _your_ pup—”

Hannibal’s eyebrows raise at _that_ particular leap of logic. “You know very well that’s not what I meant—”

“Maybe you should just plan better, you know I’m _starving_ —”

“Will—”

Will’s lip trembles. He wraps one arm protectively over his middle and snaps his teeth in displeasure. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Hannibal huffs a sigh and turns the burner heat down, rounds the island and catches Will by the wrist before he can retreat. He reels Will in, and barely grimaces as Will’s nails sink into his forearm, doesn’t stop until his shaking mate meets his chest and Will’s forehead butts against his shoulder, _hard._ It’s both aggressive and affectionate.

Hannibal’s free hand settles over the nape of Will’s neck and smooths over the soft baby curls there. “Darling,” Hannibal says reasonably, “You can’t ask me to make you something specific, then eat all my ingredients, and be upset when I can no longer give it to you.”

Will takes a long inhale in. He’s still quivering, though his temper-trembling dies down as Hannibal placates him with firm, familiar touches. _“Shouldn’t,”_ Will says finally. “I definitely _can._ ”

Hannibal bites down on a smile. “Do you still want chili? I can’t promise it’ll be spicy, but there’s no sense in stopping now that I’m halfway through.”

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist, holds him tight enough to crush their bodies together, to wedge their pup securely between them as his instincts demand. His voice is quiet when he says, “You could just use cayenne pepper like a normal person, you know.”

There’s no denying the upward tilt of Hannibal’s lips any longer. “A normal person, yes. That sounds so very like us.”

Say nothing of the fact that the meat is decidedly not beef. But that, at least, finally draws a laugh from Will. He rubs his face against Hannibal’s neck, less than subtle in his scenting. Hannibal knows that by the time Will’s finished, he’ll smell more of his mate and the sweetness of their unborn pup than himself. “I’m just really, _really_ hungry.”

“Half an hour,” Hannibal promises, and kisses the crown of his head. He parts from Will with one last gentle squeeze to the nape of his neck. “No more snacks. Go have a glass of water.”

Will headbutts him in the shoulder again before he pads away, grumbling, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

* * *

_Omegas in the early stages of pregnancy may demonstrate nesting behavior, as well as hypervigilance. This combined with their need for excessive rest can sometimes result in unexpected outbursts. Alphas should be aware that they should exercise caution during these precarious first weeks through the first trimester. Never underestimate your mate and what they are capable of in defense of their children._

* * *

 

Hannibal snaps to awareness in an empty bed with cold sheets. It’s not the first time Will has gotten up in the middle of the night, though he usually wakes when that happens and is able to offer assistance. The fact that Will’s been gone for some time is cause for concern.

He gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of sleep pants; the house is warm enough that he doesn’t bother with a shirt as he goes searching for his mate. With any luck, he’ll be back before the blankets have lost their heat.

The hallway outside their bedroom is dark. Hannibal’s chest clenches with something that is definitively not _panic,_ but a sensible amount of alarm. He doesn’t see any lights on downstairs, though he supposes he’ll never know if Will is in the study with the door closed—

His foot creaks on a board in the hallway. He’s never paid it any mind before. He pays it a _startling_ amount of mind when the guest room door is thrown open and he finds himself on his back, a heavy, snarling weight bearing him down into the carpet. It’s only the familiar scent that prevents Hannibal from throwing him off, especially when Will’s hand closes around his neck.

Hannibal’s eyes prickle and flare with red. He curls his claws into the floorboards to prevent himself from harming his mate, and does his best to breathe. Will’s eyes are wild, half-crazed with interrupted sleep, teeth bared and poised to rip Hannibal’s throat out.

Hannibal bares his fangs and growls. It vibrates through his chest where Will is astride atop him, very well poised to kill him by any means necessary, and if it weren’t for the circumstances, Hannibal would normally be thrilled, but—

 _“Will,”_ he says warningly. _“Let me go.”_

Will freezes. He blinks slowly, and his fingers relax in increments. It’s only when his eyes widen and burn gold that Hannibal knows he is awake and aware. Will scrambles backward and lands on his rear between Hannibal’s bent legs, bracketed by the thighs that had braced in preparation to unseat him if all else failed.

“Shit,” Will pants. His hairline is damp with sweat, both from whatever nightmare he was suffering and the near-murder of his mate. His chest heaves, and he stares as Hannibal pushes himself up on his hands. As he does, Will drops onto his back. His legs are still thrown over Hannibal’s thighs. It’s not so different from how Hannibal had knotted him earlier tonight, hips slotted together, broad palms lifting Will’s lower back into that lovely arc that makes him howl—

Will tips his head back, bares his throat, and whines. It’s an uneasy sound, rife with apology and regret, and Hannibal cannot resist it. Especially not when the curve of Will’s belly is illuminated by the moonlight through the window, pale and lovely and full, ripe with their child between them. He pushes himself up and over, hovers over Will’s prone body on hands and knees, and rubs his cheek against Will’s in forgiveness.

“What’s gotten into you?” Hannibal asks, his voice still raspy from the strength of Will’s grip. He’ll have bruises tomorrow, he’s sure. “You were gone when I woke up. I was looking for you.”

Will laughs, discomfited. “Well, you found me,” he says. His brow is furrowed in apology, hands palm-up with arms resting beside his head. “I wanted. I, um.” Will swallows hard. “I was overheated, so I got up, and then I got comfortable, and I heard you in the hallway but I wasn’t really thinking.”

Hannibal rests their foreheads together, and Will wastes no time in twining his fingers into Hannibal’s hair. He smooths through the strands, nails trailing gently over Hannibal’s scalp. It feels wonderful, if not for the reminder that Will had been about ready to slaughter him in defense of their pup.

On second thought, perhaps he should _reward_ those instincts.

“You’re nesting?” Hannibal asks.

Will shrugs reluctantly. “Guess so.”

“You do nothing by halves, do you?”

“Guess not.” Will goes quiet in consideration. “If I killed you by accident, do you think I could use the Imminent Danger defense?”

Hannibal laughs. “No, Will, I don’t think so.”

“Shame,” he replies breathlessly, and leans up for a kiss. “I might’ve finally had you.”

 

* * *

_Memory issues may develop sometime around the four to five month mark as an omega’s blood flow is diverted toward their pup, which at this stage is growing rapidly. As the nervous system develops, you may notice some changes in your mate. It is best to be patient and undemanding. Though your primary instinct may be to help, be cautious to avoid appearing overbearing._

* * *

 

Will has been standing in front of the open cabinet for nearly a minute before Hannibal finally decides to speak up. “Did you need something?”

He turns and stares at Hannibal blankly, as though realizing for the first time that he is not by himself, let alone that Will had stopped abruptly in the middle of their conversation to stare with empty eyes at their assortment of dishware. It’s the same as it’s ever been in their years of sharing this kitchen. Whatever it is that he’s searching for, Hannibal is quite sure that if Will himself knew what it was, he would know exactly where to look.

“I…” Will trails off into silence again. He turns back to the cabinet, head cocked quizzically as he stares at its contents. “I don’t remember.”

“Water, perhaps?” Hannibal suggests with raised brows. It’s not like Will to be forgetful, though he’s been running into it more and more often as his mate’s pregnancy progresses.

Will rubs his belly absently, then winces as their pup begins to kick. “Geez. Honestly, not really sure.” He takes a breath, then huffs in surprise. “Yeah, definitely yours.”

Hannibal rumbles as he places himself at Will’s back, encircles him with his arms from behind. He’s glad he knows Will so well, or else he might feel threatened. Instead, he’s amused. “Was there any doubt?”

“No, never,” Will replies. His voice has gone distant again. Considering. “I think…”

“What was it you were looking for?”

Will looks back over his shoulder, and his face twists into an irritated frown. “You think I’d be standing here like an idiot if I remembered?” He shrugs Hannibal off, his scent morphing from sweet to tart as he stalks toward the study and grabs the bag of chips off the counter. Mid-step, he stops. He looks down at the bag in his hands.

“For fuck’s sake,” he sighs, utterly exhausted and defeated. “Can you hand me a bowl?”

 

* * *

_Despite the fact that your mate is already expecting, it’s not uncommon for their sexual needs to spike due to an increase in hormone levels. Especially in the case of physically active omegas, you may be faced with a mate with uncommon amounts of stamina and a voracious sexual appetite. The effects, at times, will not be unlike a heat, and can prove to be an intense encounter for both parties._

* * *

 

 

“Ha-Hannibal,” Will whines, and squirms back against his mate. “Please. _Please.”_

“Be patient, beloved,” Hannibal murmurs. He scoops his palm under Will’s thigh, lifts it up and drapes it up and over his own. They’re curled on their sides within the walls of Will’s nest, surrounded by scent and softness. Hannibal pushes into Will’s body and pulls out again, smooth, slow rolls of his hips as he fucks Will deep.

Will’s thigh trembles under his palm. His spine quakes against Hannibal’s chest. His teeth are bared in desperate plea as he pushes back insistently to meet Hannibal’s thrusts, but he has little leverage. His hands are wound into anything he can grab—their worn clothing, slick-soaked blankets, the base layer of towels that (ideally) would prevent him from soaking the mattress on nights like these.

Tonight, Hannibal has given up any and all hope for the guest bed. He’ll buy another after the pup is born.

Will whimpers, tries to lift his hips and simply can’t muster the strength with the exhaustion in his limbs and the extra weight their pup puts on his body. Held like this, spread open and dripping, he is entirely at Hannibal’s mercy—though to say that’s not precisely Will’s design would not afford him enough credit.

Will gulps in shaking breaths, reaches back blindly with one hand and fists in Hannibal’s hair. The edge of pain has Hannibal snapping his hips forward, shoves in until he bottoms out in a move that has Will gasping.

Will tips his head back onto Hannibal’s shoulder. There’s desperation in his eyes and fierce, fierce love—and budding fury. “If you don’t knot me soon, I swear to—hnng, _god_ —I’ll go get that stupid f-fucking dildo Margot gave me for our puppy shower and do it _myself.”_

Hannibal bites back a smile and pushes his knee between Will’s legs, tilts it up to spread Will’s slippery, shaking thighs farther apart until he’s keening at the stretch. “Is that so?”

Will curls in on himself as Hannibal pushes up against his prostate, baring the back of his neck and the lovely sight of mottled bite marks, both old and new. Will’s been demanding lately. Hannibal is only too glad to oblige his needs, even when Will uses that threat an average of once per day. He has yet to deliver.

With Will’s legs locked in place, Hannibal snakes one hand around his mate and searches for the heated line of his cock. He navigates by feel alone, as Will’s pregnant belly blocks his view, and bares his fangs in a feral grin when he feels Will shudder and moan.

Will arches his head back, the column of his neck pale and pretty, blood heat radiating from his cheeks in an exerted flush. His eyes are slivers of gold around fat black pupils as Hannibal pulls out to the head and slowly fucks him full. Will’s bitten-red lips part on a soundless gasp when Hannibal hauls him back onto his cock in a slick, filthy grind.

Hannibal bares his teeth, swivels his hips. The growing base of his knot is throbbing against Will’s clenching hole, and he slips his fist up Will’s leaking cock as he _pushes_ —

Will shouts as Hannibal’s knot pops in. Pained, overwhelmed ecstasy floods his face as he turns his head to _bite_ , and though his angle is less than optimal, Will’s teeth sink in just under the curve of his jaw. Hannibal feels the moan reverberate from Will’s lungs and through his fangs, feels it against his chest and deep in his flesh. The bite will scar, will show above the collar of even his most conservative suits. Even when it heals, Hannibal knows it will look violent; no one would dare question that he has a mate at home who is _dangerously_ possessive—so dangerous that Will nearly severs his jugular with his teeth.

Blood spills hot down the side of Hannibal’s throat, and he snarls as Will moans, overcome by the hot clench of Will’s body around his knot, by the pull of Will’s fist in his hair, by the flat of his tongue lapping over the bite wounds to help them seal, by the pulsing of Will’s cock in his palm as he spills into the nest that will never smell like anything but _them, together—_

Will sobs and moans as Hannibal comes, keening helplessly in a singular stream of noise that is both pleasure and pain, desire and overstimulation. Hannibal releases Will’s cock only to swipe over his inner thigh, gathering seed and slick together before he smears it over the swell of Will’s stomach, lays a claim with their sex to his mate, his pup, _his._

 _“Ha_ nnibal,” Will cries, and his voice breaks. “Alpha, _please.”_

Hannibal bites _deep_ into Will’s shoulder, closes his teeth around the shadow of an old bullet wound that, in another world, could have robbed him of his mate before they had this chance. Now, there is only them. Only this. Only the join of their bodies and scents and souls— _mates,_ ‘til death do they part.

In the midst of their fucking comes a moment of stunned silence in which the world is still, and Hannibal knows with certainty that he will worship his mate and child as long as he lives. That he loves Will down to his bones, and will slaughter anything that ever dares touch the family he’s built from the ruins of his ancestral home. That their pup—their _daughter—_ will be the most fiercely loved creature to walk the earth.

It ends only when Hannibal unclenches his teeth and feels blood in his jaws, and sets about licking Will’s wounds closed as his beloved shakes in his arms.

 _“Fuck,”_ Will whispers, and his body goes lax. He moans weakly as Hannibal lets his leg down, lets him curl up in the mess they’ve made and covers Will’s body with his own. “Oh _fuck,_ baby.” He swallows, corrects himself. “Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiles against Will’s neck. Will only ever slips into his drawl when his brain is jelly, set back to base instinct and old habit. It’s the highest compliment Will can ever give simply because he never means to give it, and happens infrequently enough that Hannibal considers it an achievement.

“Oh,” Will pants weakly, and starts to laugh. He sounds gutted, hollowed out, stuffed full of growing pup and knot and seed until there is no room for anything that isn’t Hannibal. “Oh, thank god you didn’t fuck me like that in my early pregnancy, or we’d be having twins. Holy _fuck.”_

Aided by the gift of their biology, Will’s seeping wounds seal closed with the last touches of Hannibal’s tongue. Hannibal’s sure his own bite has already stopped bleeding, though his throat probably looks a mess. If that is the mark of a satisfied mate, he will take it as often as Will sees fit to give. “Perhaps now you’ll stop threatening to replace me with a plasticine sex toy.”

Will nods weakly against the mattress. He heaves a heavy sigh, and his endorphin high rushes him toward a sated sleep, still hot and slick, twitching around Hannibal’s knot.

Hannibal chuckles and reaches for the least soiled of their blankets he can find, tugs it over their bodies to keep them cozy until they separate. In the meantime, he kisses the silver crescent of their first mating bite and nuzzles Will’s cooling skin. “Until tomorrow,” he concedes.

Will’s voice is barely a whimper of agreement as he says, “Until tomorrow.”

 

* * *

_The journey is long from beginning to end. Alphas will face unique struggles, and each individual omega is different in the symptoms their pregnancies present. Each pregnancy, too, can fare differently. It will be an exercise in patience, and a test of love and commitment. But there is no more wonderful occurrence than the arrival of your pup, the knowledge that you and your mate have created a singularity in the universe, vibrant and unique._

_And though the months are not without challenge…_

* * *

 

 

It’s been some time since he’s heard from Will, and Hannibal is on the hunt throughout their home. It’s unusual to go the duration of his culinary process without interruption for something or another. It’s one of the many reasons why Hannibal primarily creates slow-cooking dinners, to give him more time to assist Will with whatever he needs.

Tonight, however, he has had silence.

When he finds them, he knows why.

Will is sprawled over the low settee in the study, head pillowed against the arm of it. Mischa is tucked inside his shirt and supported by the crook of his elbow. She nurses in silence, peering at Hannibal with the slightest crescents of her sleepy eyes.

From the slight drag of his breath (Will never admits that he snores), Hannibal knows he is sleeping. Quite right, too—in the early days of infancy, all’s fair in love and war, and they are each other’s allies in the fight for sanity against their pup. There is no way to extract her from Will without waking them both, but neither does Hannibal wish to leave their daughter without conscious supervision. Hannibal lowers himself to the floor beside the couch and rests his temple against Will’s ribs, listening to the sounds of his breathing and the distant _thump_ of his heart. He commits this moment to his memory palace and tucks it inside a room that looks like a nursery.

He sits there for some time until he feels fingers in his hair, and knows that Will has awakened. “Sleep well?”

“Decent nap,” Will acknowledges. He glances down at their baby and sighs. “And here I was hoping we’d get her down regular tonight.”

“We’ll manage,” Hannibal murmurs. He presses a kiss to the base of Will’s ribs and stares up into the face of their pup. He is weak with adoration in a way he could never imagine at twenty, or even at thirty-five. Not for the first time, he realizes his incredible luck in wooing Will, in their mating, in their convoluted history being ironed smooth with love and understanding.

He dare not call it a blessing. God does not deserve so much credit.

“Dinner?” Will asks. He doesn’t move an inch.

And nor does Hannibal. “It’ll keep.”

 

* * *

_…there is no greater joy than that of a family._

 

 

 


End file.
